Angel with the scabbed wings
by ugly-angel
Summary: post movie, about 6 months i guess. entire first chapter takes place on a plane. really sucks, but w/e r
1. i hate myself and i wana die

Disclaimer: yah you know how these work. I don't own fight club blah blah blah  
  
The blazing inferno pouring out from the fiery shopping mall spewed black smog into the sky. The flames danced like armies of demons, fighting tooth and claw to the bitter end, killing each other by millions, writhing in agony. This was the latest mission of project mayhem, codename mall rat.  
  
Shit, I'm getting ahead of myself again...  
  
  
  
After wave one of project mayhems' destruction, I thought that everything was over. I was sure that the bombs, the revolution, fight club, and project mayhem had died with Tyler. I was wrong, it was only the beginning. This was Tyler's plan. In their dead god they still trust, and they don't even know he's gone. I couldn't tell them. They wouldn't understand. I thought about leaving them, I knew they'd get by, but like this I can give them some sort of direction. A little bit of influence from a god goes a long way, but if I contradict what Tyler told them, they'll take my balls.  
  
I wanted so much to be arrested, or at least sent to an insane asylum, or the very least sent to a shrink. The problem is that the entire judicial system was in on project mayhem, or at least fight club, so there was no chance of any repercussions, no finality for my tortured conscious.  
  
I am jacks great injustice.  
  
I've unleashed something horrible, yet in a twisted way beautiful upon the world. They're my creations, and they want me to lead them to a New World, but can't be their leader any more. Tyler was their leader, but Tyler won't be leading them to any glorious victories any time soon.  
  
"We are god's unwanted children." I mumbled under my breath.  
  
Angel, who's now my unofficial second due to some... casualties asked, "What sir?" he sounds as though he wished I'd order him to blow something up.  
  
"Nothing." I snapped.  
  
"Would you like something to eat sir? You haven't eaten in days."  
  
I glared at him with eyes so hateful, I thought he'd burst into flames.  
  
"Angel, why do you want this? I mean I know you- we can't go back to the way things were, but why do you insist on being at side 24 hours a day?"  
  
"Because Cornelius, I love you,"  
  
Oh, right. After I killed Tyler, I told everyone that if anyone called me Tyler, I'd kill them on the spot. I didn't know what I'd like to be called, but I always liked Cornelius. It brings back memories of the good days, the days with Bob and Marla and the groups.  
  
"and since wave one, you've acted... strange, and it worries me."  
  
"Hold on, what do you mean you lo-"  
  
Some one called from the cockpit, "Sir, we'll be landing in 5 minutes"  
  
"I have to piss sir." Angel got up and walked fast to the back of the plane.  
  
I Jacks' complete confusion.  
  
I watched as the plane was landing, and noticed we were banking rather sharply...  
  
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Ha ha ha, sorry not a hell of a lot happened in this chapter, yah it blew I know. I'm promise if by some freak accident you read the second chapter it will start out with a bang, and I'm hoping it's at least a bit obvious. If I get 5 good reviews ill actually get into this story, or if I get 5 bad ones ill start it somewhere else, and it'll be better, I promise lol. 


	2. falling away from me

The plane shook, and I thought it would be torn apart as the 747 landing on the strip perpendicular to ours collided with the back of our private jet.  
  
The oxygen mask fell, and I was about to take a breath, when I thought of one of the first things Tyler said to me.  
  
You become euphoric, docile, you accept your fate.  
  
Oh how I wand to accept my fate. I could just sit here, suffocating, and eventually be delivered to my flaming death at hundreds of miles per hour.  
  
Unfortunately, the four space monkeys who hadn't been in the cargo hold of the jet fighting, were now strapping me into a parachute, and before I knew it I'm being tossed out of the jet.  
  
Of course, they expect me to pull the cord.  
  
Again I'm faced with a choice which will decide my fate. If I pull the cord, I go on with this miserable excuse for an existence. If I don't, then I will be saved from the horrors of this world, created by me and otherwise.  
  
Do I have the balls to kill myself? I know I had the balls to shoot myself in the mouth, but then again I knew that I'd survive that.  
  
I deserve to die. Just thinking about the people I've fucked over, I know I should die. Bob. Then again bob didn't have a hell of a lot before project mayhem, so in his case I helped him.  
  
Shit, so never mind about bob. There are the people who I've put out of work by blowing their buildings up. I've been loosely trying to keep track of the missions of project mayhem, but it's tough because I can't ask questions, so I have to go by the missions I tag along on, or hear about the next day on the news. From what I can tell, were on wave seven. I had more detail on their most recent adventure, project mall rat. The other ones involved movie theaters, then one with fashion outlets, plus a score of others which were seemingly random.  
  
Alright, I put people out of work, but the people I put out of work were the ones who made the bombs that blew the buildings up.  
  
Now they're homeless and starving, and that's my fault.... well actually after the first blast, we bought the warehouses and other buildings in the area of the house on paper street in the chaos following wave one. You see, every one belived that ww3 was upon us, and when the wealthy upper class warehouse/factory owners got this idea, they decided to sell all their property and build underground bunkers.  
  
They still haven't come out.  
  
Anyways, we built an entire colony in a 5 mile radius around the house. It's like a giant clockwork, everyone in their right place.  
  
You'd be surprised how long it takes to fall from an air plane.  
  
Ugh, fine.  
  
I pull the cord as the ground feels close enough to touch, but then I look at the little dial on my shoulder, and notice the little needle is past the red line.... this is going to hurt. A lot.  
  
Thank god for guided meditation  
  
I hit the ground hard, and tried to roll like in those Kung foo movies. Apparently, Bruce Lee's stunts weren't done from a plane. The rolling was a bad idea. Instead of breaking JUST my legs, I think I just broke the rest of my body, including my face.  
  
The pain was too much, and I passed out  
  
Sorry to anyone who had to read that, I know that was really boring. I almost didn't put it up, but then decided eh, what the hell it's already written. I'm trying to make sure that chapter 3 is a lot better, so after its written read it, and maybe it won't suck! Yay! 


End file.
